Episode 6: No Laughing Matter
by Castle Season 9
Summary: A young woman is found dead in the woods. With Halloween approaching, the team discovers a unique twist on their killer's identity. Season 9, episode 6.
1. Chapter 1

**No Laughing Matter**

Season 9, Episode 6

Written by alwayswritewithcoffee

 _This is a work of fiction by writers with no professional connection to ABC network's Castle. Recognizable characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental._

* * *

She walked without fear - even in the dark of night - with only a crescent moon for company, confident and comfortable on the familiar path that she had traveled plenty of times before. It didn't matter that she was headed into the dark, that even now with New York City the safest it had been in decades, she was putting herself at risk by stepping into a remote area of the park at night and alone.

Knowing who was waiting just around the bend kept her brave, the excitement of possibilities leading her forward, eyes peeled for the man who had invited her for a late-night meeting.

She had dreams of candlelight, perhaps an engagement ring; the latter thought tugged a smile at her lips.

It didn't last; the moment was broken by the snap of a twig, the howl of the wind through trees that released a fresh round of foliage from their branches to flutter to the ground. A jolt of fear spiked through her blood, the steady pattern of her steps faltering on the sidewalk for just a moment.

"Hello?" she called, her eyes searching for any sign of her expected companion on the deserted path that led deep into the very heart of the park.

She wouldn't go any further. Of that much she was certain, glancing at her phone to check the time while also mentally calculating how quickly she could run back to the safety of the Upper West Side and its crowded, lively streets.

Another rustle, the crunch of leaves under a pair of feet, the click of shoes onto the sidewalk. She turned, expecting the familiar smile, the twinkle of a pair of green eyes.

The sight of a clown, clad in a jumpsuit patterned with alternating red and yellow diamonds and a frilly lace collar, was a shock, but she resisted the urge to yell, though survival instinct demanded that she take a step backwards; one step closer to the complete darkness, where the lights lining the path no longer were shining.

"What is this? Who are you?" She made sure to sound tougher than she felt, the fingers on one hand balling into a fist even as the other went to work unlocking her phone.

If she couldn't run for safety, she would call for help.

The clown didn't respond to her question, but took another step forward, fully into the light of one of the street lamps. Under the amber wash of light, she got her first look at the frizzy red wig, the blue makeup above the eyes, the extra-large and nearly sinister mouth painted bloody red with grease paint.

Even the red nose, usually so bright and cheerful, looked menacing.

"I don't know what you think you are playing at-" she began, the words dying in her throat at the glitter of something pulled from a pocket hidden at the hip of the clown's jumpsuit. In the second she'd risked to type in '911' on her phone, her surprise visitor had taken yet another step, lifting the large knife as if ready to strike.

And just like that, she knew.

Payback had finally come.

* * *

"I miss coffee."

It wasn't often that Rick Castle heard Kate Beckett openly whine, but she definitely was doing so now. Sleep-rumpled and more than a little grumpy, his wife's attention had bypassed him and gone straight towards the white cup of joe in his hand.

"You can have all the decaf you want," he countered, forgoing his first sip of the day in favor of turning towards the coffee pot. Compared to her usual intake, the 12 ounces per day of caffeinated coffee that the doctor had okayed was a pitiful allotment.

"It's not the same, and you know it," Kate sighed, taking a seat at the kitchen island as Rick poured a cup and sat it in front of her.

"I know," he said, picking up his own cup for a long, satisfying drink. "But just think about how happy you'll be that you abstained when the baby gets here and doesn't have two heads."

Whether it was his terrible joke or the fact the first sip of coffee had served to improve her mood, Castle just grinned in response to the slight upturn of his wife's lips in his general direction, marking it down as a win. Although the morning sickness had slowly begun to ease up as Kate moved into her second trimester, a whole host of other problems were still giving her trouble.

It was still rare, for one, that she slept for more than a few hours at a time, a side-effect of various pregnancy discomforts that included getting up multiple times to pee. And though she wouldn't admit it yet, Rick knew that her energy still lagged. More than once he was sure that he, Ryan, or Esposito had tapped on the door to her office and interrupted a brief snooze at her desk that Kate certainly hadn't planned on taking.

"Two heads?" Kate questioned, one of her eyebrows curving up in that sly teasing gesture that always made his blood pump just a bit faster. "Last week it was an extra finger."

"Last week it wasn't nearly Halloween."

"Is that going to be your explanation for the severed head on the bathroom counter, too?"

"Guilty as charged, Captain."

With a fond roll of her eyes, Kate lifted the cup back to her lips, taking another drink.

"Have you given any thought to your costume for the party?"

An innocent enough question, but she was thankful that Rick was busy fiddling with the toaster when he asked, facing away from her and unable to see the wrinkle of her nose and the purse of her lips.

The truth was that she hadn't given a costume much thought at all and had really been planning on winging it with various items from her closet. Surely she had enough black to pull off a decent witch?

"I… yeah, I have some ideas," she muttered, draining the rest of her coffee as her cell phone began to ring from the pocket of her robe.

"No, you don't," Rick said with a laugh. "But we'll go shopping this weekend, find you something fantastic."

Giving a glance at the caller ID on her phone, Kate wasn't so sure about that, the Dispatch number an indication that a good portion of her time leading up to Halloween would be spent overseeing a murder investigation. "Beckett," she answered, flashing a grateful smile to Castle as he passed her a pen and pad of paper.

Scribbling down the address, Kate muttered her thank you for the notification, fingers immediately flying over the screen once the call had ended, composing a group text to Ryan and Esposito. "Looks like you'll have to put those plans on hold," she informed Castle. "Early morning jogger found a body in the park. Ryan and Esposito will be headed that way within the half-hour if you want in."

"I think I could find the time," he grinned, tipping his mug back up to his lips to drink its contents.

It looked like he would need the jolt of caffeine for more than just decorating for his Halloween party.

* * *

The footpath had been bisected by police cars, the familiar van of the Medical Examiner's office wedged in between the yellow crime scene tape and a large oak tree.

As usual, two officers guarded the scene, doing their best to encourage the nosy spectators undoubtedly hoping for a glance at something gruesome to move along. Flashing them both a smile as he passed them, Rick ducked under the tape, stepping around technicians with evidence bags and cameras to approach where the two detectives stood, consulting in identical notebooks.

"What have we got?" he asked, drawing Ryan and Esposito's attention from their notes to glance at him. "Something befitting Halloween, I hope."

"Then you are going to be very disappointed," Esposito replied, tilting his head towards the body. From their vantage point on the path, only the flash of blonde hair and the curve of a shoulder were visible between the bushes. "Just a run of the mill stabbing. Young woman in this area of the park at night? Likely a mugging."

"Still, we've got officers canvassing around the park. It's unlikely we're going to get any witnesses, but we have to give it a try," Ryan added.

With a long sigh, Rick glanced back towards the body. "I admit it, I'm disappointed. I was hoping for…."

"Astral projection? Demon vampires? Freddy Krueger? Michael Meyers?" Espo jumped in, the smirk on his face growing with every suggestion.

"No!" Castle exclaimed, the word sounding far more like confirmation than he wanted. "I just wanted something a bit out of the ordinary."

"Too bad. You got a stabbing in the park last night," Espo replied, stepping away to give instructions to another uniform as Ryan gestured for Rick to join him closer to the body.

"We don't have any ID yet on the vic, there was no purse or wallet with the body, and we're guessing that her phone was either dropped or maybe taken with the rest of her things," he explained, eyes lingering on the long blonde hair now matted with dirt and blood.

"But a jogger on this path caught a glimpse of her hair on her run and called it in," Ryan added, pointing to where a tall brunette stood with a uniform, her shoulder-length bob fluttering in the breeze that had kicked up. "Name is Tessa Hannon. She said she usually never runs on this side of the park, but the weather was nice and she wanted a challenge. If not for her, it'd have been hours before the usual crowd started poking around up here."

"She looks young," Castle said, glancing towards the victim. "Late 20s, early 30s."

"Yeah, and we're gonna run her prints, check her photo against missing person reports at the precinct and at area shelters. Her clothes are high end, and she's obviously taken care of herself, but you never know…."

"Until you know," Rick echoed, taking in the pale curve of a cheek and counting the pools of blood against the dark fabric of her jacket that marked a violent and painful end to a life.

* * *

"We got a hit on the ID of our victim," Ryan's head popped through the open doorway of Kate's office the moment Rick passed over a styrofoam container filled with her lunch. "Uniforms walked the path from the crime scene back towards the street, and another set took the path approaching from the opposite direction, and we found her purse. Cash and credit cards are missing, but her driver's license was still inside."

Kate hopped to her feet before Ryan had finished explaining, stepping around her desk to follow the detective into the bullpen, where Esposito stood scribbling on the murder board underneath the DMV photo of a woman with honey blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Victim is Olivia Fabre, 34. Owns her own women's fashion line and, according to the _New York Ledger_ via a Google search, just debuted her first collection at Fashion Week last month. Address is the Upper West Side, about ten blocks from the closest park entrance to the crime scene," he said, capping the marker and stepping aside so Beckett and Castle could read the rest of the information.

Death from blood loss. Four stab wounds in the back, believed to have been attacked from behind after a chase down the footpath. Time of death between 11 P.M. and 1 A.M.

"It's a good start," Kate said, glancing at the boys in turn. "No witnesses came up in the canvass?"

"None that would cop to seeing or hearing anything," Ryan sighed. "Some of the homeless and the junkies who hang out around there might know something, but none of them would talk. We'll take another crack at it if you want."

"Not right now. We need to find out if she made it a habit of going into the park at night. If she did, where did she go and why? If she didn't, what put her there last night?"

"Talk to her friends, her family, her co-workers. Turn her life upside down," Espo said with a grin, cutting off Kate's orders before she could even give them. "We got it, boss."

Years of partnership meant that Esposito didn't even need to signal Ryan, the two of them reaching for jackets in tandem, ready to ride uptown for a bit of investigation.

With her attention turned back towards Castle, intent on asking if he wanted to ride with the boys or to stay and eat lunch with her, Kate never noticed Vikram step out from the tech room. But Rick did notice, the confusion on the analyst's face evident but mixed with something unsettled that had the hair on the back of Castle's neck prickling.

"I have something you should all see before you go," Vikram said, halting the two detectives in their tracks and leaving Kate spinning on her heels to face him. "I scrubbed the webcam footage of that footpath like you asked, and I found something... well, something weird."

"How weird?" Rick asked, already in motion to follow Vikram's footsteps back to the room where the video waited; the timestamp at the bottom marked it at 12:34 A.M.

Waiting until the other four had stepped into the room, Vikram pressed play and stepped aside, turning his attention to the others as the wind rustled trees and blew leaves along the path for a good fifteen seconds. The figure that appeared on the screen wasn't just any ordinary person, the jumpsuit, wig, and makeup all looking incredibly out of place in the middle of the night in Central Park.

"A clown?" Castle gasped. "You found a clown wandering Central Park around the vic's time of death?"

"Not just that. This clown is the only person that uses the footpath, at least in the range of the cameras, in the four-hour window that Ryan asked me to check. And, if you zoom in..."

Vikram continued, tapping at the keyboard so that the video froze on the screen and slowly zoomed in towards a hand carrying something long and sharp that glittered in the light of the street lamps.

"Son of a bitch," Esposito muttered, "Could be a knife."

"The two of you go back to the park with a photo of this guy, ask if anyone saw him. Castle and I will go interview our victim's co-workers," Kate said, frowning at her husband when he flashed them all a grin. "What, Castle?"

"A murderous clown loose in Manhattan? Best case ever!"


	2. Chapter 2

The ding of the elevator announced their arrival at the converted SoHo loft of Olivia Fabre's budding fashion empire. The steady pulse of music that wouldn't be out of place in a European club piped through the open space, various well-groomed and stylishly clad young professionals bopping to the beat as they worked with reams of fabric on extra large tables, mannequin forms, and, in the far corner, one statuesque model in a vibrant pink evening gown.

"Can I help you?" The bright voice that greeted them belonged to a woman with a pixie cut and a heart-shaped face who stepped away from a large desk, the piece of furniture the only thing separating them from the workspace beyond.

"NYPD," Kate said, withdrawing her badge from the coat of her pocket to flash it at the young woman. "I'm Captain Beckett and this is Mr. Castle. We need to speak to whoever is in charge, Miss…."

"Brooke," she said, clutching at the iPad in her hands as if it might somehow protect her from bad news. "You'll want Olivia, but she isn't here yet. She's late, actually. I had to reschedule a meeting with Neiman Marcus that she's been excited about for weeks, which really isn't like her at all. But given that she had plans last night…."

Brooke was a talker, the innocent and well-meaning sort who would chatter away with information both important and useless unless one of them stopped her.

"Who is in charge when Olivia isn't here?" Castle asked, stopping Brooke's monologue mid-stream.

"...I suppose that would be me. I'm her personal assistant," Brooke said. "And the receptionist, _and_ the business manager. We're a start-up," she added with a small laugh and a quick shrug, though the lingering smile died on her lips when neither Castle nor Beckett returned the gesture.

"Can we go somewhere a bit more private?" Kate asked, glancing at the open space where a half-dozen people were still sewing and cutting away at fabrics and patterns, oblivious to the newcomers.

Brooke's eyes widened at that, her brown eyes darting around the small area intended to be a lobby with a shake of her head. "Just tell me what happened," she said.

"Brooke…." Kate began, the clench of emotion striking her low in the gut as she watched the light and happiness fade from the woman's eyes. "Olivia was found this morning in Central Park. She's been murdered."

She knew from personal experience that even if you saw it coming, it did nothing to lessen the blow, and Brooke's frame absorbed it with a jerk of her body, the tablet slipping from her fingers to crash to the floor if not for Castle's hand darting out to save the device.

"This is…" Brooke choked, two tears sliding down her cheeks. "How did this happen?"

Shoved in beside the desk was a small seating area, and Kate guided Brooke to the sleek black couch, taking a seat with a soft sigh. "I'm very sorry for your loss," she said and, as always, meant it. "But it's very important that you tell us what was going on in Olivia's life. Did she have any enemies? Anyone in her life giving her trouble or anything upsetting her?"

The shake of Brooke's head was the only answer, the tissues that Rick had unearthed from somewhere being crumpled in her small hands rather than used to wipe the tears that continued to fall. "No, everyone loved Olivia. She had just presented her first collection last month at Fashion Week, and we were taking meetings with major department stores to try and sell some of the more mainstream styles on the rack. It's a huge milestone, you know? She had everything to look forward to."

"How about the business?" Rick asked as he took the lone chair in the cramped waiting area. "Any money troubles? Any investor looking to get their share back?"

"No. The only other investor is Olivia's boyfriend Brady. He would never ask her to return the money; he's been her biggest supporter while she got this place off the ground."

"And they were happy?" Kate asked, her eyes sliding over to the desk that she guessed served as the main hub for the portion of running a fashion line that wasn't just designing, fitting, and creating clothes.

"Very happy," the woman sighed, brushing at another tear. "He sent her flowers yesterday, and she was so excited about them."

The glance that Rick shared with his wife went unnoticed by Olivia's assistant but, at Kate's nod, he eased himself from his chair, and strolled over to the desk. A laptop and piles of paperwork cluttered the surface, along with financial statements, expense reports, invoices for purchases, and one large, colorful bouquet of flowers in a crystal vase.

"Is it unusual for Brady to send flowers?"

"No," Brooke replied, sniffing back more tears as she looked up at Rick and then met Kate's gaze. "He usually would send flowers on special days. Her birthday, their anniversary, but none of that is coming up soon. But Olivia thought that he might be asking her to marry him when she read the card."

" _Liv, meet me in the park, in our spot. Tonight at midnight._ " Rick read from the card still attached to the flowers, feeling the hair lift on the back of his neck for the second time that day.

His wife's eyes had gone hard, the compassion and empathy for Brooke and her loss momentarily eclipsed by anger at the knowledge that Olivia had been set up. "One more question for you, Brooke. Where does Brady live?"

* * *

Alone in the interrogation room, Brady Marshall didn't know he was for certain being watched, but like most first-time visitors to the precinct, the two-way mirror kept drawing his attention, as if he could see the cops on the other side.

"Bro, that's Brady Marshall."

"So?"

"So?" Esposito scoffed, digging his elbow into Ryan's ribs. "That guy is one of the best outfielders to have played for the Yankees in the past five years. He led the league in batting average when he played for the Cardinals."

"And he might have killed his girlfriend," Ryan sighed, holding up the folder of crime-scene photos and financial statements for both Olivia and Brady. "But if you want to go in there and talk about his season stats, I can wait."

Scowling at his partner, Espo took the folder, giving one more glance to Brady as he sat at the table. "No, I got this, but if he did it? It's a damn shame."

At Ryan's signal, Officer Hernandez opened the door, admitting him and Esposito into interrogation. Like a puppet on a string, Brady bolted upright, hands immediately moving into view on the table. "I don't understand why I'm here. The cops showed up and asked me to come down here, but no one will answer any of my questions."

"Yeah, that won't be changing," Esposito said, taking his seat across from Brady and tapping the folder edge against the stainless steel. "But we will be asking some questions."

"About?"

"Olivia Fabre."

The smile Brady gave was genuine, turning a face full of frustration and anxiety into one of a man quite obviously in love; not that it ruled him out as her killer. People killed in the name of love and passion all the time.

"What about Olivia?" Brady asked, glancing at both cops in turn. "I mean, I thought she might be mad that I didn't call her last night, but this is ridiculous. Hauling me into jail to teach me a lesson? How did she even convince you to do this…."

"She's dead, Mr. Marshall," Ryan said, those four words sucking the air from the room and freezing an otherwise handsome, All-American face with shock.

"No way," Brady replied, shaking his head and jumping to his feet. "This is just some sick, twisted joke that someone is pulling. You think this is funny, Ramirez?" he yelled, pointing at the two-way mirror, his face growing red with rage. "I'll kick your ass, bro."

Getting to his feet, Esposito met the prized Yankees outfielder toe to toe, leaning into the man's personal space before he opened the folder. "Brady, it's not a joke," he said, slapping the crime scene photo onto the table for maximum effect. "Olivia was found in the park this morning by a jogger. Stabbed to death."

He didn't have many people that he loved in life, but Javier had seen and experienced loss himself. Everyone absorbed the truth differently, and Brady took it in by closing his eyes to shield himself from the photo, his face crumpling up in grief.

"We need to know what you were doing between 11 and 1 A.M. last night," Ryan said, quickly sliding the photo of Olivia's body back into the folder as Brady took his seat.

"I….uhh…." he sighed, hands covering his face for a long moment, visibly fighting back tears. "I went to a bar with a couple of teammates. We're thinking about investing in the place and we wanted to check out the scene. We stayed until nearly one, and I took a cab back home."

"Can anyone verify that?"

"I paid for the cab with my credit card, and I spoke to the night doorman in my building on my way to the elevator."

"So why did you send flowers to Olivia and ask her to meet you in the park last night?"

Brady's face had gone sallow with grief, blue eyes haunted and agonized when he turned them towards each of the cops. "I didn't send Liv any flowers, and I'd never ask her to meet me in the park at night. It's too dangerous. I'd never put her at risk like that, just like I'd never hurt her."

Brushing the back of his hand across his cheeks to remove the tear tracks, Brady gave a sigh. "I bought her a ring last week. Two karats, white gold band, round cut. Thought I'd ask her this weekend, really do it up right. I wanted to marry her, and now she's dead."

* * *

"Brady Marshall isn't our guy."

The words were accompanied by the slam of a phone into its cradle, Esposito spinning in his desk chair to face the murder board where Kevin stood, the blue marker squeaking against the white surface to clear their prime suspect.

"Security camera footage confirms that Brady was at the bar until 12:47 A.M. He paid for his cab ride at 1:25 A.M., and the night doorman went on the record to say that he didn't leave his apartment until unis escorted him to the precinct this morning," he explained, tossing the marker back onto the silver tray with a sigh.

"And we know from the park footage that it's likely Olivia was killed closer to midnight," Kate said, cradling her favorite mug in her hands as she took in the new information on the board. "Any progress with the florist?"

"Dead end," Espo replied. "Ordered online and paid in cash via a drop box on the day of delivery."

"What kind of florist has a drop box?" Rick asked, narrowing his eyes in his wife's direction as he approached the group, his suspicions only growing when Kate presented her back to him.

With a grin, Esposito got to his feet, snagging his phone from the

desk blotter. "The kind that also turns a profit in check cashing and title loans."

While Castle tried to picture what that business must look like, and what type of clientele they must draw, Kate seized the moment, stepping away from her husband to put Ryan's desk between the two of them. "Call it a day, boys," she said. "Come back and hit it fresh tomorrow. Someone in Olivia's life must have wanted her dead."

"Unless it's just a random attack," Rick replied, doing his best not to backtrack when three cops turned their well-practiced glares his way. "Haven't any of you been watching the news? Sinister clowns are everywhere, doing all sorts of things. Maybe they're taking over.

Forget a zombie apocalypse, we should really be afraid of the clowns."

Fighting a shiver as he pulled on his coat, Esposito didn't quite manage to hide it or contain his frown. "Clowns," he said. "Messed up, if you ask me. They think they are so funny. They're weird. Anything that happy all the time is just wrong. And how do they all get into those little cars with their big shoes and the weird smiles?"

"Don't worry Javi, when the clown apocalypse comes we'll let them eat you first," Ryan said with a grin, clapping his partner on the shoulder as he headed towards the elevator. "See you tomorrow."

"Night."

"Later."

Answering in tandem with his wife, Rick watched Esposito follow Ryan onto the elevator, the distant tones of the two of them still arguing about clowns meeting his ears until the doors slid closed. But even with his attention diverted to the boys and their bickering, that wasn't quite enough to keep his thoughts away from his wife and how she was yet again angling away from him.

One sniff later, he knew why as rich aroma of the coffee beans that he kept stocked for the machine in the breakroom hit his nose. In three steps, Rick had closed the distance between him and Kate, plucking the mug from her hand before she could take another sip. "You really do want our baby to have two heads."

"Castle!"

Whether she was snapping at him for stealing her coffee or for discussing their child so openly in the precinct he didn't know, but the location of their conversation hardly mattered. Between the day and night shifts, the bullpen was as quiet as it would get until the nightly patrol rounds began, and no one still on the Homicide floor was close enough to hear their conversation. "Kate, one cup a day. That's the deal."

"And that's a lie," she sighed, her eyes lingering on the mug that was less than half full. "I looked it up. 200 milligrams a day is an accepted amount, which equals to twelve ounces. That is a cup and a _half_ ," Kate told him, tapping a fingernail against the navy mug she had favored for years. "Not the single cup you keep giving me. I'm being gypped."

Fighting the urge to smile at the way her bottom lip stuck out in frustration, Rick stepped forward to slide a hand along her forearm and down to her wrist, carefully tangling their fingers together. "If you're so tired you are looking for another caffeine jones, then it's time to go home. Change of clothes, warm dinner, late night showing of _It_ in my office…."

Rolling her eyes at him was a default reaction, and hardly as effective when she was fighting a grin. But Kate allowed herself to be pulled towards her office without a word of protest, already dreaming of her comfortable yoga pants, one of Castle's oversized t-shirts, and sinking onto the couch with an enormous bowl of chicken carbonara.

* * *

He wasn't dressed for this.

The tiny dog sniffing around the grass in front of him had never mastered bladder control, even approaching three years old, and part of the life he had chosen to live meant months of standing in the freezing cold while Daisy did her business.

A small price to pay for settling in Morningside Heights with the love of his life. If Juliana was devoted to her dog, he was devoted to his fiancée and willing to stand in the cooling night air with their pet.

"Are you done?" he asked the dog once she had put her leg back onto the ground. Daisy, like most dogs, took no notice of him or his question, turning her attention towards the small crop of trees that dotted the hill to their right. Even in the dim lighting, he could see the aggressive stance in her small body and rolled his eyes.

With a tug on the leash, he stepped forward, intent on moving back down the sidewalk and onto the street, where the handsome brownstone he called home was merely two blocks away.

"C'mon Daisy," he sighed, giving another tug as the dog released a growl, small steps turning her body to line up parallel with the path. "It's just a cat." Likely one of the strays that roamed the park, sniffing around for scraps that had yet to be picked up by the maintenance crew.

Another yank of the leash, and he sighed once again, kneeling down to wind up the leather strap and lift the small Yorkie into his arms. "If you won't come on your own, I'll just carry you," he told the pup, tucking her securely against his side and fighting a shiver as a gust of wind picked up, the chill in the air cutting through the thin t-shirt and shorts he'd put on for bed before Daisy had begun barking to go out.

As he straightened back up, the sight of a dark form sitting at the bench on the edge of the path gave him pause, though he continued forward, telling himself it was simply a homeless man looking for a place to sleep.

The distorted features and waxy skin came into view as he moved closer; vivid orange hair falling in kinky waves to thin shoulders encased in a shiny gold jumpsuit and navy undershirt, three neon green balls attached to the front in place of buttons.

"What the hell…?" he muttered to himself, stopping short of the bench to take in the sinister grin painted onto the white rubber mask, the dark slits where eyeholes remained in shadow, leaving an impression of nothing but empty sockets.

"Man, you're sick," the guy shouted, the shot of fear to his system bypassing straight to anger as the reminder of a summer night so many years ago swam to the forefront of his mind. "Screw you," he spat, wondering who in his life would try to play such a mean prank on him as he stomped past the clown without a second glance, both too angry and too scared to look back.

If he had, the man would have run for his life, possibly taken a deep breath to call for help. But arrogance provided its own form of danger, and he never saw the clown coming, nor the glint of a knife being withdrawn from a pocket.

But he felt the blade as it pushed into his skin, the sudden burst of pain leaving him moaning in shock and releasing the dog from his hands. The Yorkie dropped on all fours, scurrying out of the way with a growl, but the assault continued, the knife withdrawing and returning for five blows until the man slumped onto the ground and lay still on the sidewalk, taking his last breath under the watchful gaze of his killer.


	3. Chapter 3

The photo slapped up on the murder board presented a man in his mid-30's, curly brown hair falling over his forehead and a boyish grin that gave the effect of making Levi Graves look much younger than his 34 years.

He had been a hedge fund manager making more in six months than Kate would make in two years, and he was three months away from a high-society wedding to Juliana Parks, the only daughter of real-estate developer Kenneth Parks.

And, now, Levi was dead, stabbed in the back by an unknown assailant, his fiancée, sister, and parents left distraught by the loss.

Kate knew because she personally had notified each of them of Levi's death, listened to his mother cry over the phone from South Carolina and watched his fiancée crumple to the floor with shock in the middle of the living room in the brownstone they had renovated together.

Over a decade working murders, and it never got any easier to ruin someone's life with the news they had lost someone they loved.

With a sigh, Kate added a second photo to the board, this one captured from far away and grainy due to the zoom of the smartphone that had snapped the shot. It had been taken just after midnight when the group of teenagers who had spotted the clown loitering on the steps of Grant's tomb had called in to report their sighting as a suspicious person. Though the unis hadn't found any clown, they had stumbled upon Levi's body three blocks north of the tomb.

The clown wasn't a slam dunk as their killer, just as in Olivia Fabre's murder, but years as a cop had taught her that coincidence was a rare thing that almost never applied to murder investigations.

"Have we found any connection between Olivia and Levi?" she asked, turning from the board to face Ryan and Esposito, each of them involved in a separate task related to the investigation.

"Not yet," Espo answered, hanging up the phone and absently rubbing at the space between his eyebrows. "They lived in different neighborhoods, used different gyms, worked in different fields. No connection through schools they attended and no one I've spoken to remembers Levi ever hanging out with anyone named Olivia. I'm emailing her photo to see if it jogs any memories, but it's not looking very promising."

"I've actually had a bit more luck," Ryan said, spinning his desk chair to face Kate. "Olivia's mother remembered a kid named Levi, only because Olivia returned from a summer camp talking about a boy with that name. Her mom thought that maybe she had a little crush, but she never met him herself, said he didn't live in the city. She's going to go through some of her daughter's things that she never moved out, see if she can come up with any old photos from that camp."

"Did she say what the camp was called?"

"She did, actually," he replied, flipping through the notepad on his desk until he located the notation. "Camp Yocona Falls, up in the Catskills. Olivia went every summer for a month from thirteen to sixteen, and then just lost interest."

"Espo, get back on the phone with Levi's parents, see if he ever went to that camp. Having a photo would be nice for confirmation, but I don't want us wasting time waiting for Olivia's mother to find it," Kate said. "In the meantime, I'll have Vikram run a search, see what we can find out about the place."

* * *

"I ran the camp like you asked," Vikram told Beckett and Castle an hour later, the writer having paused from decorating the loft for the party to bring her lunch and get an update on the case. "It's a camp where each summer they run three sessions, all a month long, and each geared for different age groups: 11-13, 14-16 and 17-18. Each group does the usual summer camp stuff, swimming, sports, but the rest of their time they do leadership projects, college preparatory workshops."

"It seems nice enough when you look at the website. Up-to-date facilities, big cabins, very pretty scenery, but back in 1998 it wasn't all about holding hands and singing Kumbaya."

The news article that flashed on the screen was clearly from the early days of the internet, a basic web page with a publish date dated July 23, 1998, with an enormous headline dominating the space at the top: _Camper seriously injured in accident; local PD investigating_.

"There are a series of articles like this, all of them reporting on a camper named Anthony Deveney, who suffered a traumatic brain injury after taking a nasty fall down a ravine outside of the Yocona Falls grounds," Vikram said. "The campers weren't supposed to leave, especially at night, but some of the guys in Deveney's cabin claimed that he was going to meet a girl and snuck off. He survived the fall, but required a lot of care and racked up enough medical bills that his parents attempted to sue the camp for negligence, which they settled out of court in 2000." He accented that statement with another article, the headline taking the local angle and focusing on the camp paying an undisclosed amount to Anthony's parents.

"The local police looked into the accident, and some other articles have quotes from kids saying that Deveney was the subject of some teasing and hazing by the more popular kids at the camp, but the cops were never able to prove any foul play."

"1998? According to her mother, that's the last year that Olivia Fabre would have gone to camp," Kate said.

"Sounds a little suspicious to me," Rick added, shooting a look at his wife. "We should look into Anthony Deveney, see where he is now. Maybe he recovered from his injury and is looking for revenge?"

"Already ran a search," Vikram said, frowning at the screen as he tapped at the keyboard again, pulling up the results of his efforts. "Anthony Deveney didn't recover from his injury. He lived with his parents in Astoria until his death two months ago, never graduated from high school, never went to college. Never even held a job from what I can tell. Unfortunate, because a web search turned up all sorts of articles on this kid from his teenage years. Very smart, won a bunch of awards for entering into robotics competitions. He even had a scholarship to MIT."

"And a perceived accident ended it all," Kate said as she crossed her arms, considering the foul play angle and what might spark revenge after a decade-plus of life as usual. "Death can be a motivator to lash out, and two months is plenty of time to locate the people you think are responsible for it and plan out a way to get your revenge."

* * *

"Chief Kemper, thanks for taking the time to speak with me," Beckett said, meeting the eyes of the local head of law enforcement for the town of Yocona via the wonders of modern technology. "I read up on the articles from your local newspaper and they listed you as the investigating officer for Anthony Deveney's accident."

"That was eighteen years ago, but you are correct," Kemper replied, his tone much like his expression, carefully neutral and entirely uncommitted. He was being polite, even respectful, but even with a pair of computer screens separating them it was hard to miss the wariness of the small-town cop and the clear need to get their conversation over with. "What can I do for you, Captain Beckett?"

"My precinct is currently working two murders that involve two people who we know were staying at Camp Yocona Falls in July 1998. Their lives don't connect again after that time period, which has me questioning if they could have been involved somehow in Deveney's accident and their murders could be for revenge sparked by Deveney's recent death. So, what I want is to ask you about the circumstances surrounding that accident and if you thought there was any foul play involved."

The beat of silence that stretched between the two cops wasn't terribly long, but it carried the weight of an investigation that you weren't able to close. All cops had them, and they all wrestled with them. On the screen in front of her, Kate watched the veteran's internal war with himself, until he seemed to come to a decision, one hand raking through his salt-and-pepper hair with a heavy sigh.

"Anthony Deveney was incredibly lucky that the fall didn't kill him," he began. "That's a poor consolation, considering that his life afterward was spent being cared for like an infant, but nothing related to his accident ever added up to me."

Now that Chief Kemper had spoken it aloud, the weight had lifted from his chest and he became energized. Suddenly he was sitting up in his chair, hands folded on top of his desk blotter, entirely eager to share the story of the investigation with someone willing to listen and, more importantly, to help.

"That kid wasn't the sort to make trouble. He had been attending the camp since he was eleven, and everyone talked about how smart and how nice he was. In fact, he was a bit nerdy, really into science and technology and not so great at sports and all the other things that the popular kids liked to do up there. But he had his friends, and all the counselors maintained that he stuck with them and tried to avoid the kids that liked to pick on him. No one thought he was the type to break the rules and go roaming the woods at night."

"So what changed?"

"A girl," Kemper said with a fond roll of his eyes. "Nerd or not, Deveney was a teenage boy, and he had a crush on one of the girls at the camp. When I talked to the counselor in charge of Deveney's cabin, he told me that he had seen the two of them together sometimes and that to him, it seemed that Olivia also had a little crush on him. Apparently, they had been going to this camp together for years and-"

"Wait, the girl was named Olivia?" Kate asked, interrupting the rest of Kemper's recollection of the case with her heart galloping in her chest at the first real lead.

With a nod of his head, the police chief reached towards a file folder resting on his desk, flipping it open and rifling through the contents until he found what he was looking for. Drawing his finger down the page, he stopped to rest it near the bottom. "Olivia Fabre. Really pretty girl, long blonde hair, big blue eyes. I talked to her, too. And she was very upset over Anthony. She never would admit that she had been out in the woods when I questioned her, and I didn't press the issue when we had other leads."

"What were those?" she asked, writing Olivia's name in all caps in her notebook and drawing a line to Anthony's with a little heart between the two followed by a question mark.

"A group of boys at the camp, the leaders of the popular crowd. They took a dislike to Anthony, teasing him, calling him names, small pranks on him and his friends. The night of Deveney's accident, some kids in a neighboring camp said they had seen the three of them slipping off into the woods after lights out. They all admitted to going into the woods, but claimed they had just gone out to drink alcohol that they had smuggled in."

"But you never believed them."

"No. I had a couple of officers follow the path they said they had taken," he replied. "Do you have children, Captain Beckett?"

With a warm smile, Kate's hand slipped below her desk, coming to rest low on her stomach where her baby continued to grow. "No, I don't have any children. Not yet."

"Well, I do," he chuckled. "Two boys and two girls, and none of them have ever made it a point to clean up after themselves. Especially the boys. If some teenagers had been drinking in the woods, they certainly would have left evidence behind, but there was none. But even beyond that, there were some tracks that the rain that rolled in that morning hadn't quite covered up, and they led directly towards the ridge where Deveney took his fall."

Suddenly sober again, Chief Kemper frowned at the screen. "In my gut, I know those boys did something, but we could never prove it."

"If you'll give me their names, I'll see what I can do to close that case for you," Kate replied, the pen in her hand poised over her notebook and ready to add perhaps the most important piece to her page full of notes.

"Sure thing. I don't even need my notes, I've never forgotten their names," Kemper sighed. "Levi Graves, Cameron Warrington, and Tyler Renner."

* * *

The murder board had been updated, and it now included a print-out of the photo that Olivia's mother had scanned and emailed to Ryan of her daughter with Levi Graves and two other boys that a quick search identified to be Cameron Warrington and Tyler Renner.

The connection confirmed Ryan and Esposito had gone to work on tracking down information on the other two men, forced to look at each of them as both a potential target and a suspect.

Tyler Renner was less of a problem, currently deployed and serving in the Middle East with the Army. But while his older brother had been happy to tell Ryan of Tyler's whereabouts, the U.S. Army wasn't quite so forthcoming in confirming it in an official capacity, content to waste the remainder of his day by transferring him to various offices, where he often ended the call by listening to the voicemail of someone doing what most the population was - enjoying the weekend that had slipped away while he worked a pair of murders.

Currently, Ryan was on hold, tapping his fingers while some secretary contacted her boss to see if she could answer the question once and for all as to Renner's whereabouts.

"We know the why," Castle said to the room at large, perched on the desk that now belonged to Esposito but that he still often caught himself thinking of as Beckett's, his eyes lingering on the pictures of the two clowns. They had intentionally been made to look different, and maybe they were separate people, but the lanky frame and the thin shoulders - almost too thin for a man, though it could be the oversized jumpsuits - weren't easily disguised in either photo. If there were multiple killers, they had the same body type. "But it doesn't help us with the who."

"No," Kate agreed, doing her best not to wince at the tightness in her lower back brought on by hours of pacing, bending over financial records and witness statements, and a body that seemed determined to ache even if her child was the size of a pea pod. "Everyone involved in this case has an alibi, even Deveney's parents," she sighed. "So either someone is lying, or we haven't found the right person yet."

"Or both," he said with a scowl at the murder board.

As Ryan muttered a goodbye and returned his desk phone to its cradle, Rick reached for the folder of crime scene photos from Olivia's murder and then Levi's, flipping through them with his mind straining to make a connection that he finally had to admit just wasn't there.

"After jumping through a bunch of red tape, Renner is indeed where he's supposed to be. He isn't scheduled for any leave time for another four months," Ryan announced to the room, rubbing his hands over his eyes with a long sigh.

"And I confirmed with the hostess who answered the phone that Cameron Warrington is working at his restaurant in Brooklyn. He rarely leaves before the rest of the staff, and the bar doesn't close until 2 A.M.," Esposito added as he stepped up to the group, reading from his notepad to make sure he relayed the correct information. "I've put unis on his restaurant and his house. They'll stay close till the morning, make note of anything suspicious with his behavior or anyone else's."

"And by that you mean clowns," Castle said with a grin, far too pleased at the slight shudder from Espo. "Deadly clowns with red noses and scary grins, just standing on a corner and watching you as you walk from the subway to your front door. Planning and plotting…."

"That's just wrong," Espo scowled as Ryan and Beckett tried their best to disguise their chuckles. "You know you married a lunatic, right?" he asked Kate, who did release a laugh at that, reaching out to pat Espo on the back with a grin.

"If you're that scared, get Ryan to drive you home," she teased. "Maybe he'll even go upstairs and turn the lights on for you. Check the closet and under your bed for clowns."

"I hate all of you a little bit, right now," the detective sighed, picking up his cell phone from the surface of his desk and shaking his head. "But I'll see you tomorrow anyway."

"Assuming, of course, that the clowns don't come for you in the

night," Castle called after Espo as he headed towards the elevator, all three of them exchanging grins when the detective lifted his hand and flashed his middle finger at them in response to the writer's parting shot.


	4. Chapter 4

Rick caught his wife halfway up the ladder, numerous plastic black bats dangling on thin pieces of fishing wire swaying in her clenched fingers.

"Kate, what are you doing?" He tried to keep the alarm out of his voice, aware that coddling and being overprotective of his wife was something she neither wanted nor would put up with for very long.

Judging by the way her eyes cut over to him, her mouth pressed into a line of disapproval, he wasn't successful. "You shouldn't be climbing…." Rick said, hoping to soften her reaction to his panic with a dose of very gently broken truth.

"Castle, I'm not an invalid," she huffed at him, stepping up one more rung of the ladder even while he bit his lip and prayed that she didn't fall.

"Seriously, Beckett," he began after a moment of watching, his heart lodged somewhere in his throat. Sure, he knew his wife, and understood on some level that she would never put herself and their child at risk by doing something she didn't find herself capable of, but Rick also knew that pregnancy was full of surprises and his normally graceful wife becoming a bit clumsy and awkward was bound to be one of them. "I'll do those. Get down."

It surprised him that she relented after hanging just one of the bats, her descent from the ladder very measured and cautious. Once her feet were back on the ground, Rick took his first full breath since stepping into the living room, quickly taking the decorations from her as if that alone would prevent Kate from heading back up to finish the job.

To help the cause, he stepped up the rungs quickly, extending an arm over his head to press one of the strings, its end coated in sticky tack, to the ceiling. It was pleasing to see the way the bat twirled and then dangled down, the effect of the different lengths Rick had cut the strings adding a bit of dimension to the decor.

"Castle," Kate said after a bit of silence, giving him pause as he put up the second-to-last string. Immediately, all of his attention turned toward his wife, her face shining with a combination of embarrassment and shame that he couldn't quite figure out. "I'm sorry," she continued, placing a hand on the ladder."I wouldn't have been up there except…."

Kate hedged on finishing her thought, bright spots of color blooming on her cheeks. "Except what?" he asked, stepping down one rung to be closer to Beckett in her bare feet.

"Sometimes I forget," she admitted with a little sigh. "Not that I'm pregnant, I never could forget that. But I'm so used to doing whatever needs to be done without hesitation that I forget that I shouldn't, even if I can."

He could tell from the wariness in her eyes that admitting about her forgetfulness wasn't the only thing on her mind, so Rick smiled, leaning in to dust his lips across Kate's with a gentle grin.

"You've always been an independent person, and I've always loved that about you," he replied, lifting a hand to stroke his fingers along her jaw until Kate gave him a small smile in return. "But you are right, just because you can do some things, it doesn't mean you should. Like climbing ladders, chasing criminals…."

"Shooting a gun, leaving my desk," Kate added on, this time giving him a full blown smile.

"Exactly," he chuckled, darting in to meet Kate's mouth for a slow kiss that nearly had him falling off the ladder to reach for her at the feel of her teeth sinking into his lower lip.

Sticking his hand out to grab the ladder in order to keep himself upright, Rick caught a glimpse of his mother in the corner, quickly spinning to finish setting a pair of tall black candlesticks already topped with a pair of candles onto the piano.

Had he realized they had an audience, Rick wouldn't have put his tongue in Kate's mouth.

Well, _maybe_ not.

Chuckling to himself as Kate bent over another box of decorations, he saw the front door opening, Alexis on the other side with a big grin. "Hey pumpkin," he called as she stepped inside, shutting the door behind her and shrugging out of her jacket to reveal a tight black dress and a pair of towering heels that he was sure had once kept residence on a shelf in the walk-in closet he shared with Kate. "Why are you so dressed up?"

The intended casualness of his question obviously didn't fool any of the women in the room, all of them exchanging pointed looks that quickly bounced in his direction. "What? I just wanted to know!"

More specifically, he wanted his daughter to admit to him whom she had dressed like that for, but he wasn't going to share that with the rest of his family.

"What? A girl can't get dressed up to help her family decorate for Halloween?" Alexis replied, the look in her blue eyes a little too innocent to be believable. And when Rick combined it with the slight smirk his daughter was giving him, he rolled his eyes, stepping down from the ladder to wrap his arms around her.

"Maybe some girls," he said, dusting a kiss at the crown of her head. "But not you. Did you have a good time on your date?"

Her smirk twisted into a full-blown grin at the question, and he watched in fascination as Alexis did something he hadn't seen in years. His daughter dipped her head down, trying to hide behind a curtain of hair that was far too short to conceal the pink glow at her cheeks.

In a flash, Rick had a memory of Alexis at 15 - grinning and day-dreaming over her first date with the kid from her Advanced Poetry class at Marlowe Prep - and he just wanted time to slow down. His daughter wasn't 15 and thinking about her first kiss anymore. She was 22, nearly a college graduate, and old enough to make her own life-altering choices, which presented a whole new set of problems.

"I did," she said with a happy little sigh, her eyes flicking over to meet both Kate and her grandmother in turn. "I really, really did."

The beep of his phone cut into the conversation, the sound signaling that the pizza he had put together and tossed into the oven had finished baking. Giving Alexis another smile, Rick moved towards the kitchen, leaving his daughter and Kate to prop a skeleton against the wall by the front door.

"How did the outfit go over?" Kate asked once her hands were free, smiling at Martha as the woman approached to join in on the conversation.

"It was a hit," Alexis replied, grinning at her grandmother's hum of approval. "I overdressed for what he had planned, but you were right and it didn't seem to matter. He kept complimenting me, and didn't even mind when I had to go back upstairs to grab tennis shoes."

"Why in the world would you need tennis shoes for a date?" Martha asked, frowning at the very idea.

"Laser tag, Gram." Kate didn't think it was possible, but Alexis' smile stretched just a bit wider, practically beaming at the two of them. "He wanted to take me to do something that he enjoyed, and I couldn't do a course in Kate's heels."

"Laser tag," Martha repeated, somehow looking both pleased that her granddaughter had had such a nice time and dubious that such an activity was a date-appropriate behavior. "Well, as long as you had fun, kiddo."

Chuckling at Martha as she glided away towards the kitchen, Alexis stepped out of her heels with a sigh, flexing her feet in relief. Bending down, she snagged the pair from the floor, passing them back to Kate with a murmured _thank you_.

"Anytime, Alexis," she said in reply, placing the shoes near the office door and reaching in to give the young woman a quick hug.

"If you ladies have finished conspiring to keep me out of the loop on Alexis' dating life," Rick said from behind them, sliding an arm around both of their waists to gently guide them towards the kitchen island where the fragrance of cheese and tomato sauce waited. "Our dinner is waiting."

"Dad, we aren't conspiring," Alexis sighed at him. "I just… asked Kate for a bit of advice."

"And told your grandmother about Kyle."

The flicker of shock on Alexis' face quickly twisted into betrayal as she glanced towards Kate, who winced in response. "I didn't tell him," she said quickly. "But we saw the two of you together at the book release party…"

"It's just as well," she said, sliding onto a stool. "I asked him to come to the party tomorrow, so it would have come out then."

"What I don't understand is why you didn't want to tell me," Rick said, and though he tried to hide the hurt in his voice, it was still apparent in the emotion bleeding into his eyes. "Did you think I wouldn't approve?"

"Oh, Richard," Martha sighed at him, topping up her wine glass from her spot at the opposite end of the counter. "It has nothing to do with that."

"Then what?" he asked, turning to look at all three women. "Alexis tells me everything."

"I was going to tell you-"

"She was going to tell you-"

Alexis and Kate spoke up in tandem, sharing a brief smile at their synchronicity before Kate gestured for Alexis to go ahead. "I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure there was anything to talk about," she explained. "Kyle - or Officer Hernandez to you - was assigned to lock up when I was at the Twelfth after…."

Alexis hesitated for a moment, her eyes welling up with tears as the memory of Paige's death rose up to kick her where it hurt the most. "...after Paige," she whispered, clearing her throat quickly and giving her dad a watery smile.

"He and I talked a bit, and then I ran into him one afternoon when I came by the precinct," Alexis continued, talking over her dad's question of when and why she had come by the precinct. "And we went to get coffee together, that turned into an invitation to come to your release party as friends and then, tonight, an actual date. I talked to Kate because she knows Kyle, and she would give me an honest opinion."

"So would I."

With a tilt of her head and a raise of her eyebrows, Alexis conveyed the perfect amount of skepticism and amusement, the expression evaporating just a bit of the pain and grief she was still harboring over the death of a childhood friend. "Sure, once you listed all the reasons I shouldn't be dating a boy - any boy."

Passing a plate with two thick slices of pizza to Kate, Rick considered the merits of Alexis's words, admitting to himself that his daughter was right. Besides, did he really mind that she had reached out to Kate? That Kate had responded not only by encouraging his kid towards a guy who seemed nice enough when they had interacted at the precinct, but by helping her decide on what to wear on her date?

He could never be upset over Alexis finding something that made her smile and laugh, those two things so rare for his daughter in the past few weeks. "You're right," he said, passing Alexis a plate with her own slices and returning to plate another for his mother. "But I tell you not to date, only because no one can ever measure up to the greatness of your dad."

Clapping his hands together at their groans and eye rolls, Rick snagged a thick slice for himself, biting off a big bite. Seconds later, his eyes were watering and his mouth was on fire, the steaming piece of pizza searing the roof of his mouth and leaving him hopping around the kitchen, waving his hand in front of his mouth even once he had swallowed.

"Hot," he croaked at his girls, each of them doing their best not to laugh.

* * *

The glow of the computer screen illuminated the otherwise dark office, Rick's fingers typing a steady beat across the keys that might have fooled his sleeping wife that he was writing.

That was what he had told her when she had crawled into bed after Alexis and his mother had left for the night, the decorating for the party finished and the remains from their pumpkin carving contest cleaned up.

Kate would lecture him for hours if she knew that he had snuck photos from the files on the clown murders, which was why he had no intention of telling her until he had something concrete to add to the case.

Opening up an email from Hayley, Rick scanned her text, a smile curling at his mouth; the Brit had come through yet again. At his request, she had contacted the camp director and convinced the man to turn over a list of campers in 1998, which he opened with a click of the mouse.

Settling in with a sip of coffee from one of his favorite mugs, he started at the top, typing the first name on the list into his browser's search engine.

* * *

"Beckett, wake up."

She was pulled from sleep thanks to Castle's urgent tone, scowling at her husband when she cracked open one eye. "We can have sex in the morning, Castle," she sighed, nudging his hand away and closing her eyes.

"I... well, yes," he replied, momentarily distracted by the mental image of Kate all wet and soapy from a shower, pressed up against the tile wall while he... Giving a fierce shake of his head, Rick nudged his wife again. "Looking forward to it," Rick said, "but that's not what I need to tell you."

With a groan, Kate opened her eyes, slowly sitting up to fix him with that intense stare that he knew had given more than one criminal pause over the years. "Then what?"

"Tessa Hannon."

Brushing the hair from her face, she frowned at her husband, struggling to recall the name as her brain tried to push past sleep and fire on all cylinders. "The witness from the first murder?" she asked, sounding a bit more unsure than she liked.

"One and the same," he said, thrusting a piece of paper into her hand and jabbing a finger near the middle of the page. "That name is on a list of Yocona Falls campers from 1998. I know that's not definite confirmation of anything…."

"But it's a hell of a coincidence," Kate added, suddenly wide awake and picking up on Castle's thought. "How did you find this?"

"Hayley."

Not bothering to ask for the full story - she could find that out later - Kate reached for her phone, scrolling through her contacts until she found the number she needed for the detective currently on duty at the Twelfth. "Saunders, I need you to run a name for me. Tessa Hannon. She would be between 11 and 18 in 1998; likely lives in the city or one of the boroughs."

A minute later, she was out of bed, hurrying into the closet to grab pants and a sweater, whatever shoes her hands closed on first: a pair of flats that she slipped on without hesitation.

When she stepped back into the bedroom, Castle was already dressed, cell phone in hand. "I know we were thinking the killer was a man because of the height, but I saw her at the crime scene, Beckett. She's definitely tall enough to be the killer. Close to six feet tall, if not right on the nose, in tennis shoes."

Shrugging on the trench coat that she had carried out from the closet, she gave a nod, moving into the office to unlock the safe and pull her gun out, quieting Castle's protest with a look. "If she's the killer, there's no way we are going without a weapon," she told him. "There will be backup and this is a last resort, but we are taking it and a side piece."

That said, she reached in for her smaller gun, passing it to Castle as her phone rang.

Fishing it from her pocket, she lifted it to her ear. "Beckett." Minutes passed with the two of them standing in the office, Kate listening intently while Rick hovered nearby, trying to catch snatches of the information being relayed to her. "Text me the address, and have uniforms head there immediately. Observe only until they hear otherwise."

Dropping the phone back into her pocket, Kate picked up her badge and keys from her desk. "Interesting thing about Tessa Hannon," she said. "Turns out that Anthony Deveney's parents were her legal guardians. They grew up together after her parents died."

Rick felt his mouth fall open, the gasp slipping out of his mouth. "That is a twist I did not see coming."


	5. Chapter 5

Cameron Warrington's restaurant sat on 7th Avenue, wedged between a yoga studio and a kids' boutique with pumpkins and tiny mannequins dressed in costumes in the storefront window. Normally, Kate would never think twice about the display, but her life was now quite far from what she had once considered normal.

Next Halloween they would need one of the costumes, she thought as she slid from the driver's seat of her cruiser and approached the two uniforms standing by the window display.

"Beckett, look at the little pumpkin!" Castle, never one for subtlety, was already pointing at the tiny onesie with a Jack-o-lantern face on the front, his nose nearly pressed to the window while the two officers tried to fight their grins at his enthusiasm. "Oh! They have Iron Man _and_ Yoda. Kate, we have to…"

"Officer Johnson," she said over her husband's excited rambling, shooting him a pointed look. Even if their friends and family knew, they hadn't announced her pregnancy to the precinct at large, though she was sure most of the cops in the Homicide division already expected as much. Even so, she had promised herself not to announce anything for a few more weeks. "Give your report."

Johnson had been working at the 12th for almost as long as Kate, and she knew him to be a good and thorough investigator, so when the man pulled off his hat and threaded a hand through his thick hair with a frown it took her by surprise. He looked beyond apologetic, embarrassment and worry clouding features that she associated with being rather easy going.

"We lost him, Captain," he began, apology oozing in every syllable he spoke. "Officer Wyatt and I sat on the restaurant just as you asked, and we didn't see the suspect exit during that time. When you called for a report, I sent Wyatt in to talk to the hostess and she told us that Warrington left the building through a back entrance nearly 15 minutes before. He headed towards the park after his wife called. Their son is sick and he needed him to come home to help care for the kid."

Tamping down on the urge to swear, Kate's eyes flicked in the direction of the park, the trees ringing the edge visible over the mid-level buildings. Somewhere inside all that plant life, Cameron could be in danger or already dead.

"Okay." She blew out a breath, pushing a stray piece of hair back behind her ear as the wind kicked up. "Get on the phone with his wife, verify that she actually called and that the kid is sick. Ask if he's made it home yet or if they've had any contact since the first phone call. Then radio to nearby patrols and set up a search. We go down every footpath between here and the exits closest to his home. Maybe we can find him before he gets a knife to the back."

"We're on it, Cap," Wyatt told her, hurrying back to the squad car visible in the distance on the next block.

"Captain Beckett…." Johnson began once Wyatt had moved down the street. "We should have had both entrances covered."

"You're right, you should have," she agreed, resisting the urge to dress down one of her officers on a Brooklyn street corner. There would be a time and a place for that discussion, and this was neither. "All we can do now is try to find him. Get moving, Officer."

With Johnson scurrying down to the squad car, Kate snagged Castle's arm and began walking towards the tree line in the distance, their usually bright fall foliage leached of most of their color in the wash of night.

"How long will it take for backup to get here?" Rick asked once they had crossed Prospect Park West and stood in the shadow of the trees.

"Too long," she replied, her voice tight with both the decision she had already made and the knowledge that her partner wasn't going to appreciate it. "That's why you and I are going to go ahead and start searching," Kate said quickly, cutting across Castle's protest by merely talking over him. "I know I'm pregnant and it's dangerous; you don't have to remind me."

The look he gave her was more than a scowl, something dark and primal turning his eyes, usually so calm and crystal blue, into a brewing storm of conflict. She knew more than anyone that underneath the kind and jovial exterior lived a man who would do anything to protect his family and, even beyond that, Richard Castle had a streak of anger in him that could rival her own.

"Castle." Kate stepped forward, gripping a fistful of his jacket into her hand to keep him in place. "I'm a cop. There is a man somewhere in that park who wants to get home to his family and, more than likely, a person waiting who's laid a trap to kill him. Pregnant or not, I can't let someone be killed if there is a chance I can stop it."

"But what if…."

"It will be fine," she said. "Besides, if it's a clown with a knife versus me with a gun…"

"I'm gonna bet on you."

Bouncing up onto her tiptoes, Kate pressed a quick kiss against his jaw, motioning for Castle to head into the park. Not unlike the setup of Central Park in Manhattan, it only took a few steps into the green space before the street lamps and traffic noise faded away. Part of the charm of the two biggest parks in the city was their ability to make you forget where you were, but standing with only the light of the crescent moon to guide them, a slice of nature in a major metropolitan area had become over five hundred acres of potential danger lurking behind every tree and bush.

"Well, this isn't scary at all," Rick said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh I dunno, Castle," Kate replied, flashing him a grin. "Clown hunting on Halloween? Seems right up your alley."

"Sure, if I wanted to be the star of some teenage slasher movie," he muttered, glancing over his shoulder in paranoia that their murdering clown had followed them into the park.

Snorting back a laugh, Kate bent down to snag the gun strapped to her ankle, passing it to him with a long look. "We have to split up; this park is huge and we need every second. You go left, I'll go right. Keep your phone on, and use this as a last resort, okay?"

"Be careful, Beckett," he muttered, diving in to brush his lips against hers before following the path to the left, eyes peeled for a clown intent on murder.

* * *

She had to admit that the park had been far less intimidating with Castle at her side. Without him everything seemed just that much more menacing in the dark, her ears straining for any sound beyond the whistle of the wind through the trees, and her eyes eager for the sight of anything beyond the flutter of leaves across the ground and the shiver of bushes as various animals skittered through the dense patches of forest.

The sound came from the right just as she paused at the crest of a small hill, the loud rustle of something large coming through the woods. Snapped twigs, the slap of branches being moved with some force and, a heartbeat later, a startled scream that sounded more female than male.

Sucking in a breath, going solely on her instincts, Kate veered off the path, moving into the grove of trees with light steps, her fingers working at the clasp of her gun holster while her eyes strained to see through the shadows that seemed to swell with the promise of danger at every new foot forward.

* * *

He followed the sidewalk as it curved to the left, blue eyes sweeping from side to side on a search for movement. It could come from anywhere; behind a tree, through the bushes, even a possible approach at his back had Rick frequently checking over his shoulder to ensure that he wasn't being followed.

In the dark everything seemed all the more sinister, trees casting shadows in the half-light of the moon that twisted and shifted with threats that were solely the work of his imagination.

It was a bit like the nightmares he'd had as a child, where the scratch of an overgrown branch against a bedroom window proved entirely too convincing as the claws of some monster that would slither through the thin glass pane and eat him. The trouble was that, as an adult, Rick had actually seen his fair share of monsters, fought like hell against some of them with the very real threat of death looming like a specter over his shoulder.

He couldn't forget how close he had come to losing everything, a reminder present in even the most simple of tasks on most days. Months later he still got lost staring at the spot on the kitchen floor where he had nearly died and almost lost Kate, and if he didn't? Raising his arm to feel the tight pull of the scar at his shoulder usually took care of it.

And if that didn't do the trick, the dreams certainly would.

The flicker of something silvery-white at the corner of his vision had him turning, barely suppressing the yelp of surprised fear that threatened to escape. His heart went wild, pounding a furious rhythm against his ribcage that almost pushed the breath out of his lungs.

The white streak was only a cat, the green eyes giving off an otherworldly glow from where the animal sat crouched near a clump of flowers with red blooms. It was fully grown and obviously a bit wild, so Rick didn't approach, but the cat hissed at him anyway, white fur dappled with gray lines rising on end at the threat he must have presented.

"Nice kitty," Rick muttered, laughing at himself and the over-the-top fear still sizzling through his system. If he had stooped so low as to be scared of a cat that would certainly sprint off into the woods the moment he took a step towards it, his imagination was really getting the best of him.

Blowing out a breath, he released the tight grip of his hand where it had clutched at his chest, continuing on down the path with no sign of the clown from his vantage point.

But all too soon, the plan had been forgotten, abandoned in the moment that the scream from a female carried on the night air. At the sound, a very different fear grabbed hold of him, propelling Rick into the woods at his left with no regard to remaining silent or using any sort of stealth while headed in the direction of the scream.

He didn't need stealth if Kate were in danger; brute strength would serve him just fine.

* * *

Even wearing flats, navigation through the terrain of the wooded grove wasn't easy. Mindful of both her physical condition and the darkness, Kate resisted the urge to plow through with outright speed and, instead, moved at a steady trot with her gun poised and ready if she needed it.

She moved along the ridge of the hill, the ground eventually moving in a steady downward slope. The flicker of light was her first clue that she was approaching another path, the acid orange wash of the lamps lighting the way glowing like a beacon after long minutes of encompassing darkness.

Rather than approach, Kate picked out a spot that offered coverage and a decent vantage point to observe. Gun still braced in the textbook weaver position drilled into her at the police academy, she eased into a crouch, frowning at the picture at the base of the hill.

More accurately, it was the lack of a scene that bothered her. No clown, no woman being attacked, and no sign of Cameron Warrington.

Which just made her all the more suspicious and wary.

* * *

He ran through the woods like a wrecking ball bound for demolishing a building, shoving and hacking at anything that got in his way. A stitch in his side, his skin overheated by being trapped under a long-sleeved shirt and a jacket, Rick sucked in as much air as he could. He was grateful that the ground under his feet was flat, if covered with fallen branches and piles of leaves that left him stumbling and reaching out to catch himself on nearby tree trunks.

He cleared the trees and picked up speed as he hit a patch of thick grass, panic clawing anew at his insides at the deserted patch of the park. Had he gone the wrong way in his urgency to follow the scream? Coming to a stop near the sidewalk, Rick scanned the trees on the opposing hillside, ears pricked for any sound of a struggle or another scream.

The only thing that met his ears was the slow shuffle of footsteps over dry leaves, the pattern of the steps picking up in the instant before Rick's instincts demanded that he spin to face whatever was coming.

The clown charged at him full speed, the sharp point of the knife raised high and catching the beam of a street lamp further down the path. Fight-or-flight demanded that he stand his ground, sidestepping the angle of the lanky body that changed course with far more agility than he had expected.

The speed of his attacker was quick enough that dancing out of the wide sweep of the knife's blade became difficult, and Rick knew in the moment before the weapon found a home that he was going to take at least one hit. Unable to do anything but grit his teeth to prepare for the pain, it exploded up his left arm, slashing through his jacket and shirt to open up a long cut along his bicep.

Hissing with the pain, he reached up to touch the wound, aware enough to know that it was paramount that he kept his eyes on the clown. In doing so, he was unsurprised to notice that the mask had been left behind on this night. And while theories as to why that might be were rolling around in his brain, he wouldn't allow himself to dwell on it.

Inexplicably, Rick's mind attached to an altogether different path, struck as he was by the soft, nearly delicate features of the woman across from him. Even radiating anger as she was, even as intent to hurt him as she was, there was no disguising her gender when up close and personal. The jaw line was too soft, the cheeks too full, and even under a garishly green suit with hot pink polka dots spaced across the fabric, there was a definite impression of breasts under the material.

That quick observation was all he could afford, a body that was within a couple of inches of his own in height and built of solidly conditioned muscle pushing towards him again with another swipe of the knife. A bit more prepared for the assault, he tried to conjure up memories of his book research, the lectures his wife had given him about hand-to-hand combat.

The key was to stabilize the wrist holding the knife and to work the force of the attack against the assailant.

As Tessa Hannon's right hand began a downward arc with the blade, Rick went to work. At the last moment, he sidestepped the direct attack. Closing his fingers around her forearm to eliminate any attempt to take another jab at him, focusing only on preventing another cut and somehow wrestling the knife out of her hand.

But untrained for combat, his good intentions never counted on Tessa going below the belt. Before he realized her plan, one of her long legs had kicked out towards his, hooking his left leg with her right to send Rick toppling to the pavement with a groan.

Before the breath had moved back into his lungs, she was on him, blood-red lips stretching wide in a grin with the knife back comfortably in her hand and on a steady track to rest at his throat.

Was this what his last moments would be like? Eyes glittering with anger that directly defied the smile curling at the mouth, the prick of the blade against his skin and the quick, sharp breath of his would-be killer?

"Put it down or I'll drop you where you stand."

Kate's voice left no room for argument, edged with that steel backbone that he always admired and appreciated. Even from his position on the ground, the unmistakable click of the safety being removed from her gun had his mouth going dry, nerves skyrocketing in fear not only for himself but that his wife was feet away from a crazy woman with a need for murder that no longer seemed to be about avenging a family member.

Lying on the ground and looking into Tessa Hannon's eyes, Rick had the sick feeling that even if she had killed Cameron Warrington, even if she had checked off three of the four people on her list, she was going to keep killing because she had discovered that she liked it.

"Last warning!" Kate snapped, the distant bleat of sirens filling the night air from nearby Flatbush Avenue. "Drop the knife and move away."

A gasp of surprise whooshed out of Rick before he realized it, the sharp nick of the blade just under his chin turning his blood to ice.

The crack of the gun shattered it all, the knife going slack in his attacker's grip as she moaned, a red stain spreading against the shoulder of her shirt.

"Castle, are you okay?" his wife was shouting at him, kicking the knife into the grass and away from Tessa, using all of her weight and strength to haul the woman away from him.

He sat up before he answered with a shaky yes, hands gently patting along his face and neck to check for any wound other than his arm, blowing out a breath while Kate slapped her handcuffs on Tessa and ignored her howls of pain and for a doctor.

"Be grateful I put it into your shoulder instead of your head," Kate snapped, her eyes blazing a fire that he hadn't seen in months, "You are under arrest and have the right to remain silent, so shut up."


	6. Chapter 6

Interrogation was a formality, but one that Kate planned to see through to the end, even if the DA's office could file charges based on forensic evidence alone and get a conviction.

Sometimes it wasn't about taking the easy road, and given that she still hadn't shaken the mental image of a killer with a knife to her husband's throat, she was beyond ready to rattle a cage.

Standing by the door to interrogation, Kate sucked in a deep breath, centering the storm of emotion that had churned inside since she had seen Castle run onto the path and be followed immediately by the clown that had materialized from the treeline to walk in her husband's footsteps. While maybe not as dangerous as the other challenges they had faced together, the image was one that she couldn't easily shake.

There had always been so much to lose where Richard Castle was concerned but now it was unfathomable.

It was about more than just him, or her, or even the two of them as a unit. Now it was another life, another person who would grow up needing a mom and a dad to teach him or her about the world and everything in it.

Blowing out a long sigh, Kate forced herself to stop dwelling on the could-have-beens and simply appreciate that the killer had been apprehended. If nothing else, they had saved one more family from grief. Cameron Warrington had turned up safe at home, curled on the couch with a two-year-old and an infomercial muted on the television. So if she and Castle both had a certain haunted quality to their eyes when the sun rose and a new day began, at least it was with some measure of success.

"Tell you what, Kate," Castle spoke as he walked over from the bullpen, licking the stray crumbs of the donut he had foraged for breakfast off his fingers. "You play good cop, I'll play bad cop," he grinned, overplaying for the moment in an attempt to chase away the shadows that swirled around them.

The snort she gave was certainly half-hearted, the memory too heavy to jump to glib cop humor just yet, but she lifted her head anyway and fixed her husband with a stern glare. "You can't play cop if you aren't one, Castle," she said, something in her heart easing at the way his lips twitched with the smudge of a smile, just a hint of sparkle coming back to his eyes.

They would get past this one, just as they had so many times before.

And with that on her mind, Kate opened the door to interrogation.

* * *

A night in jail hadn't done Tessa any favors. The orange jumpsuit made the shadows under her eyes stand out, the vibrancy of the prison uniform giving her skin a pasty yellow tinge that clashed with the dark brown hair skimming her shoulders. She had been patched up since Kate had last seen her, the bulge of a bandage visible under the jumpsuit and her right arm wrapped in a sling that had to make wearing handcuffs an uncomfortable experience given the angle they were cutting into her skin.

"We'll make this quick," Kate said, dropping the file that had been compiled on Tessa's two murders and the assault on Castle onto the table. "Uniforms searched your apartment last night and found the false bottom in your dresser. We can match the clothes and the wigs in that drawer with the clothes the assailant was wearing at the murders of Olivia Fabre and Levi Graves. The knife you used to cut Mr. Castle last night in Prospect Park has tested positive for DNA from those two victims, and it's only a matter of time until additional testing confirms that the stab wounds are a match to the murder weapon."

"Mr. Castle?" Tessa gave a snort at that, the chains binding her to the table rattling as she pulled at her handcuffs. "I know you're married. Everyone does."

Spreading her hands out in front of her, Kate shrugged her shoulders in Tessa's direction. "We have enough evidence for a conviction…."

"So go on then," the woman challenged. "If you've got it all figured out, just get on with it. I don't want to talk to you."

"Oh, that's not true," Rick said, meeting the eyes of the woman who had loomed over him hours before and been happy to slit his throat. "I think you want to talk, but not about Olivia and Levi."

Picking up Castle's cue, Kate opened up the folder, tugging out a yearbook photo of Anthony Deveney as a fresh-faced junior. With shaggy brown hair, a light dusting of freckles, and vividly green eyes hidden behind a thick pair of glasses, he was a teenager who gave off a vibe of intelligence. Just as Chief Kemper had described, Anthony seemed a kid who was both smart and very nice, if slightly unpopular.

"That's okay," she said with a glance at Castle, holding up the photo for Tessa to see. As she expected, the woman reacted at the sight of her dead cousin, her eyes going glassy with tears even when her mouth stretched into a harsh line and her jaw flexed in anger. "Let's talk about Anthony Deveney. I believe you know him."

"Knew him," Tessa corrected, her voice carrying a distinct note of agony and grief. "Anthony died two months ago."

"And he was your cousin," Rick said, mustering up his best show of sympathy. "Someone you grew up with and loved very much after his parents took you in when your parents died."

Her eyes darted between Beckett and Castle in turn, attempting to judge how much of her life and background that they might know, and for the first time there was a certain level of panic in the chocolate brown irises.

"So what if I did…." Tessa muttered.

"Well, you see, we've found that in the case of murder, it's usually for a few reasons: love, greed, anger, lust. And you fall into the first. You loved Anthony, and you wanted to make the people that you thought hurt him pay for what they did."

It was fascinating to watch Tessa's face change from a classically pretty woman swamped with grief to a furious, bitter girl who choked back her tears to bare her teeth at them. "That I _thought_ hurt them?" she snapped Kate's quote right back at her, smacking a hand onto the tabletop. "Anthony was my best friend, and they ruined his life. A stupid prank because a girl had a crush on him and they couldn't stand it. He spent the rest of his life being spoon-fed and wearing adult diapers because a pair of teenage jocks thought it would be funny to dress up in costumes and chase him through the woods because he liked a girl who just happened to return the sentiment."

"So they deserved what they got, huh?" Kate asked, dropping a photo of Levi's body onto the table and then adding Olivia's. "A knife to the back; a slow, painful death because you decided that they had to pay for their crimes?"

"My Aunt Maggie and Uncle James both worked two jobs just to pay for Anthony's medical expenses and home health care after the bank foreclosed on their house, and my uncle lost his job with the city for missing too many days because they had no one to care for Anthony. He's 63 and had a heart attack three years ago, brought on by stress," Tessa replied, anger burning bright in her eyes the longer she spoke. "They struggled to even put food on the table, to keep a roof over our heads. But the people who caused all of these problems were out having glamorous lives that they didn't deserve, not after what they did."

"And you took care of it," Kate said. "All that anger, all the frustration and rage, it all came out when Anthony died. You couldn't hold it in anymore, and you decided that payback was the only way you would ever feel better. So you started planning, researching these people and learning their patterns. You couldn't get Olivia at night, she didn't regularly go into the park, so you set her up. Lured her out into the dark, chased her down the footpath, and then stabbed her in the back."

"Did she scream for help, Tessa?" she asked, rising to her feet to lean over the table. "Did Levi try to fight you off, or did you hit him quick? You would want to wound him so it would be harder to get away. Can't have him making it back to the street and someone seeing you."

Stepping away from her chair, Kate circled around to the other side of the table, leaning down beside Tessa so that the woman had little choice but to lean away. With her gaze on Tessa, eyes glittering shards of ice that radiated her anger far more than yelling could do, she looked terrifying. "Cameron must have pissed you off," she said at her ear. "Levi's best friend at that summer camp, the guy that didn't stand up for himself, and just went along with the games. Sinning by silence with his perfect little restaurant and adorable family. How angry were you when he didn't come through the park last night? That you didn't get a chance to stab him in the back like you did the others?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Tessa said, though it was far from convincing as it came out of her mouth.

"Oh, but you do," Castle replied, picking up the story that his wife was telling without missing a beat. "You stayed in those woods for hours, waiting and watching, looking for Cameron Warrington to come down that path you had seen him take so many times before. But last night? He took a cab. Hurried home to be with his sick son and you missed him."

"But you wanted to kill something, didn't you?" he asked, his voice growing quiet even when Tessa's breathing picked up, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "You had a taste for it now, and if you couldn't have Cameron, someone else, anyone else, would do. So you screamed, and when someone came running - when I came running - you tried to kill me."

Reaching up to adjust the sling on her arm, only to have the chain linking her hands halt her progress, Tessa gave a wince of pain, swallowing against it with a long breath. "I want a lawyer."

"Fine," Kate said, gathering up the photos and closing the file. "You can wait for one in lockup. Get used to the view, since you won't be seeing anything else for about 60 years."

"Hope you like concrete," Rick added, getting to his feet and following Kate out the door once a uniform opened it from the opposite side.

* * *

The plastic piece molded into a set of lethal-looking fangs slipped into his mouth easily enough, adding the final touch to the old-school Dracula costume that Rick had chosen for the party.

Working his mouth to loosen up the mouthpiece, he stepped over to the floor-length mirror in the bedroom, eyeing his handiwork with a critical eye. A dusting of white makeup to leave him ghostly pale, just a touch of eyeliner and mascara that he had only agreed to at the insistence of both his wife and daughter, and a sharp black suit with a blood-red vest and heavy black cape completed the look.

He had even asked Kate to use her eyeliner on his forehead, the tiny triangle that melded into the darkness of his hair giving a decent impression of a widow's peak with his slicked-back hairstyle. His wife had also gone the extra mile by putting in some work on his parting gift from Tessa, and covered up the cut on his neck with enough concealer and powder that it was hardly noticeable.

With no one in the bedroom to see, Rick gave a dramatic wave of the cape tied around his neck. As he had hoped, the fabric rippled and fell to cover his bent arm, keeping the lower half of his face in shadow for a brief moment.

One cock of his eyebrow, the slow lowering of the cape and a sinister smile, he put on his best Transylvanian accent: " _I_ vant _to suck your blood_."

"I think that'll have to wait until later," Kate said as she moved into the room, the material of her long black dress and floor length cape swishing as she moved. "People are already here. I heard Alexis answer the door a few times."

Spinning to get a better look at her, he needed a moment to collect himself. The makeup Kate was wearing was severe, her cheekbones razor-sharp thanks to intense contour and highlighting of her skin. Blood-red lips and bold black eyeliner served to accentuate the cap that hid her hair completely and had two curving horns rising up at the sides of Kate's head.

"Maleficent?" he asked, trying not to stare as she hooked a thick black choker around her neck and flashed a smile that had him going just a little weak at the knees.

"I sent Alexis a text to try and find something, and she picked it out for me," she explained, reaching for the tall scepter that he hadn't noticed propped near the dresser. "Well, she got the horns and the staff. Martha brought me the cape from her studio, and I had the dress already."

Rick blinked at her for another moment before truly regaining his bearings, stumbling in Kate's wake into the office where his wife snagged the stuffed raven he had given her years ago at another version of his Halloween party from its perch on the bookshelf and attached the bird to the top of the staff with a pleased little smile.

His intentions were to cross the room and kiss her senseless, or at least long enough that Kate would scold him and have to go reapply her lipstick. Instead, Rick was forced to divert himself to the front door at a knock, walking through a living room blacked out and lit by candlelight, a rolling fog created by cleverly hidden dry ice machines covering the floor as his mother descended the staircase dressed as Frankenstein's Bride.

Her date, dressed as Frankenstein no less, stood on the other side of the door when Rick opened it. He didn't know the man's name, and there was no chance to ask with his mother swooping in to steal the guy from under his nose and drag him further into the loft.

With a shake of his head, Rick turned to take in the scene of a party in its infancy. Already, Hayley and Vikram had arrived, the two of them standing with Alexis in her Wednesday Addams getup and Kyle Hernandez dressed as Clark Kent with a Superman graphic t-shirt peeking out from under a standard button-down shirt.

Kate had migrated over to the Ryans, where Sarah Grace had fixed her with a dubious stare as she tugged on the delicate wings of her fairy costume. Her baby brother wasn't remotely fazed by Kate's costume, nestled in her lap and chewing happily on a teething ring made of tiny pumpkins while wearing his own Jack-o-lantern onesie. For just a moment Rick felt his heart skip and then fill with something indescribable at the sight.

All too soon Kate wouldn't need to snuggle with someone else's baby; she would have her own. His baby. Their baby.

And he was never gonna get over that.

"Castle, you're blocking the door."

Pulled from fantasizing over his wife and their unborn child, Rick spun to see Esposito wearing an old-fashioned pinstriped baseball uniform that was not at all what he would have expected.

Quickly stepping away from the entrance to the apartment, he flashed a grin at Espo, lightly slapping him on the shoulder. "Sorry, got caught up in the moment."

"Yeah, I saw you. If Beckett didn't have a baby in her arms it'd have been a little creepy," he teased.

Involved in their conversation, neither of them noticed the small figure that approached from the elevator in a white jumpsuit with a red ruffled collar. The clown's mask was appropriately creepy, with its teeth-baring grin and red button nose, and more than enough to send a shot of fear up Rick's spine when he caught sight of the clown just steps from Esposito.

"Espo…." he muttered, only an instant before the clown's hands closed around the cop's shoulder, turning him enough that Espo got a glimpse.

The scream he gave sounded far more girlish than anyone might have expected from Esposito, the detective pulling his arm away and darting into the loft by merely shoving Rick out of the way.

The clown stood its ground, bending double with a low chuckle that quickly grew into full-fledged laughter as the mask was pulled off, Lanie's hair tied into a neat braid and her face decorated with makeup that made for a cheerful clown rather than the horrific presence of the jester with the mask.

"Oh my God," Lanie snorted, still shaking with laughter. "That was too easy."

"Lanie!" Espo shouted as everyone else joined in with chuckles and giggles. "You know I hate clowns!"

"Which is exactly why I did it," the doctor replied, pausing to give Castle a quick hug before she tossed the mask in Esposito's direction and grinned when he flinched. "Happy Halloween!" she announced to the room at large, heading over to join Kate and Jenny on the couch as Rick closed the door and returned to the party.

* * *

 _Episode beta work by acertainzest and amtepe_

 _Castle Season 9 is produced by Team Planet and the writing team of Castle Season 9_ _. Executive Producer is_ _encantadaa._

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